


Do That Again

by Omujaku



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Modern AU, New York-ish, Venezuelan Lance, angsty, ballerino Lance !!, messy private lives, some drunken violence, violinist Keith !!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-26 22:04:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9923987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omujaku/pseuds/Omujaku
Summary: Lance's fingers disappeared beneath tufts of black hair as he played with Keith's tresses, occasionally brushing his hand against Keith's ears.He ran his palm softly over the goosebumps on Keith's arm, and asked: "What do you feel... When you play your violin, I mean...?"He felt Keith shift and turn between his legs so he rested atop his chest, their eyes meeting in the moment of silence Keith took to think his answer through. Lance bit his lip and wore a frown."I guess it's the same as it is for you when you're dancing," he mumbled groggily, burying his face in the warm crook of Lance's neck.'... Nothing?'





	1. Concrete Burrows

**Author's Note:**

> "Do That Again" is inspired by "High Strung" (2016), so if anything sounds familiar, that's the reason why!  
> Warning: cursing, heh.

"Así será la personalidad de ese, para tocar tan bien y andar desempleado. Que cagada."  
Keith seldom paid attention to people around him; little ants that came and went and of which he'd never know more about. It was a waste of time so he shouldn't have bothered, but he turned his face towards the group of people walking away and frowned. The disappointment with which the boy's voice had been laced struck him dumb, so it was not long before he stored his instrument, slung the case over his shoulder and climbed the stairs. It wasn't hard to guess what he'd said.  
"Que cagada," he mumbled, like a parrot. He had no clue as to what it meant, but it felt right.  
The ant colony was bustling; some people brushed against him and he shot them mean looks as he turned and turned and walked and turned again along this concrete jungle's streets. And then he was home.  
Home was vanilla mixed with spices and warmth, a few empty cabinets and shelves and a simple unmade bed. He peeled his jacket off and threw his boots away, and sighed tiredly before he climbed into his bed and curled up, his leg brushing against something round and hairy. "Sorry, Pal," he laughed softly, adjusting his legs so the cat could fit between them. "You can go back to sleep now."  
The tick tocking of the clock on his nightstand rang loudly on his ears as he breathed, his chest rising and falling without rhythm.  
00:16, 'que cagada.'  
02:07, 'que cagada.'  
03:47, 'que cagada.' He rose and gave Ppalgan some fresh food before burying himself under his thick blanket again.  
At 4am, André stumbled through the living room and into his bed groaning and laughing under his breath.  
05:22, 'go to sleep, damnit." He just couldn't get the image of that one guy out of his mind.  
07:34, "fuck."  
Pal mewled a complaint as Keith stood up, taking his warmth away from the kitten. He pet her head gently, scratching her behind the ear and along her neck and hearing her purr with a soft smile on his face. "I'll be back soon, okie?" He opened the window and she stretched, watching him close the door before jumping out and onto the fire escape stairs.  
Keith had this bad habit of running hands through his hair, pulling it up, down and curling it until his arms grew heavy. This would have happened if his hands weren’t freezing in this late October breeze and weren't stashed into the pockets of his leather jacket, his nose getting redder and redder and his eyes squinting through the wind.  
Down the stairs he went, and into the burrow.  
His subway pass didn’t work once, twice, thrice… “Just my luck,” he bit his lip, running it through one last time.  
“Need some help?"  
His head flung around to the guy behind him; the guy whose voice had been haunting Keith all night long. God, he thought he'd go blind from how much the kid was grinning. "Uh... I'll just get another one."  
"No, no, no, no, I got you," said Lance, without giving him a chance to escape and never losing his smile.  
"Thanks."  
"No problem." And then he was at Keith's side again. "Haven't I seen you before? I didn't think I had it in me to forget such a pretty face, but I guess I did!"  
The violinist had to blink twice, fighting the color rushing to his cheeks. "What the hell, man," was all he could get out before walking inside the train that arrived just then.  
Lance brushed Keith's hand ("Your hands are super warm, wow,") as he held onto the pole for balance, unaware of Keith's visible discomfort, and tilted his head. What was he? A puppy? "I'm wounded!" he said, clutching his chest dramatically. "Whatever I did to deserve your ill treatment?"  
"What does 'que cagada' mean?"  
The boy was apparently satisfied by Keith maintaining conversation, immediately forgetting his question; he leant against the pole comfortably and Keith changed his hold to one of the grabs to avoid any physical contact.  
"Oh, it's close to 'what a waste,' or 'how terrible,' though the direct translation is 'what a shit,'" he laughed richly, his eyes sparkling in amusement. "Why? Who'd you hear it from?"  
Keith couldn't believe this level of ignorance. His jaw clenched but he remained quiet; all he really wanted to fling a fist at his face.  
The stupid grin only faltered some seconds after Keith's eyes became daggers, making him look a bit murderous. His eyes slowly grew wider and wider with realization until he finally broke the trance with a sobered blink.  
"Ay, mierda."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> S: Así será la personalidad de ese, para tocar tan bien y andar desempleado. Que cagada.  
> E: His personality must be great, to play so well and yet be unemployed. What a waste.
> 
> S: Ay, mierda.  
> E: Oh, shit.
> 
> (Thank you for your support!)


	2. Ugly Ducklings

“Come on, Keith”  
Shirogane Takashi was an exemplary human being. From his looks to his skills, the man had no flaw in the eyes of the boy. Needless to say, Keith loved and admired him very much, but he was being impossible today.  
“I can’t do that, Shiro, I’m sorry.”  
Shiro’s lips became a thin line and his frown became more apparent as he tried to see his way out of this; he sighed deeply. “I really need your help.”  
“Hey now, don’t make me feel like an ass,” he said, washing his mug.  
“Language, Keith.”  
He laughed softly and sat back at the table, playing with some crumbs. “Listen, even if I could, I wouldn’t want to be in the same room as those kids for more than five minutes. You can only stand it because you’re an angel, which I’m clearly not.”  
“Maybe if you didn’t live like a vampire-”  
André popped his head out of his room, even though he should have been sleeping like a log by now. “Dude, shut the fuck up.” His hair was greasy and his face was smudged, and even from that distance, Shiro could see he was having trouble finding his balance. He gave Keith a worried look and motioned outside.  
“Okay, how about this: I’ll buy you lots of Jolly Rancher.”  
The violinist’s face contorted, as if the idea of not having the candy at his disposition was just as painful as being in a class full of privileged kids, chirping about their last trip to France and how it was not as satisfying as the one to the Greek Islands. “Shiroo,” he whined, running a hand through his messed up hair and covering his face for a moment.  
Shiro smiled; Keith couldn’t be more childish if he wanted. He put his hands on the boy’s shoulders and Keith crossed his arms just before he was taken in by his warm embrace. “Thank you.”  
“Yeah, yeah.”  
Keith was hugging him back, of course, and Shiro knew very well he’d have done it without having been offered candy, too. “And, Keith?”  
He pushed him away, as if Shiro’s touch burnt him. “No. No more favors for the rest of your life,” he said, violently shaking his head with wide eyes.  
The musician laughed richly and soon Keith was smiling too, leaning against a wall in the hallway. Ppalgan slipped out and brushed against his leg so he cradled her and rubbed the spot beneath her chin. When she purred, he had the softest, gentlest expression Shiro had ever seen him wear.  
Still, the pianist’s lips were drawn into a thin line. “You need to get out of here and find a new roommate.”  
Keith’s jaw clenched and he let the cat down. “I know.”  
.  
When you live in a big city you sort of get used to buildings towering above you; you eventually learn how not to be intimidated by things larger than yourself, but the Castle of Lions paralyzed even those with the strongest of drives. Keith’s mind was at peace, however. He did not stop to think about the talent past those doors because he knew he matched it and faced it at an eye level, so the structure and all it entailed did not freeze him in place, but instead sent a surge of pride that welled within his chest.  
He walked amongst the artists - the best of the best - united in one place, and felt the weight of his instrument in its case at his back. He felt an urge to start playing right then and there, and the feeling was only amplified when he passed several rooms in which people were heard practicing.  
Keith almost forgot what he was here for until he saw her.  
“Oh, Keith, yes, Shiro said you’d be coming.” Her smile was pearly white as was her long flowing hair, and her eyes inspired immense respect. “You’ll want to follow me about, if you don’t want to get lost.” There were the sort of people you knew belonged to a place, and then there was Allura. She could have very well once been one of the marble sculptures, brought to life by the music.  
“Madame,” he said, copying Shiro when he first saw him addressing her. “Shiro never gave me any details. I know I’m supposed to sub for him in his class, but that’s about it.”  
She brought a finger to her lips as she thought, walking so lightly and with such elegance that it made Keith feel like a wobbling mammoth. “Well, Shiro told me you had a… a unique style. I want to see how my students would react to your music instead of his.”  
Keith mouthed a soft “oh” and followed her like a little duckling the rest of the way.  
“Here we are. Class starts in ten minutes, I’ll be back before then.” She gave him a small bow and smile and disappeared the way they’d come.  
It was funny at first, at least to him. The people inside were dressed in the appropriate color code: light pinks and beiges, and he was clad in all black. He let out a small laugh as he made his way towards the piano, careful not to meet anyone’s gaze before it was necessary - he had the feeling he’d be very glad to jump into argument at the smallest offense, and Shiro was counting on him to behave.  
“Where’s Mr. Shirogane?”  
“He’ll be absent.” He took his violin out and sat at the bench, running small circles into the wood with his thumb as he finally looked up.  
“So who’s playing for us, then?”  
Keith gave the boy a blank look until he grew bored or impatient and went back to stretching nervously, as if Shiro not being here damaged all his plans. “Shiro, I’m going to kill you if I’m not already in jail by then.”  
“That wouldn’t be very nice,” chirped a soft voice from beside him, hints of laughter in it. “Don’t mind Slav, he just doesn’t like not knowing things before they happen.”  
“Does he usually see the future?”  
She laughed again and stretched out her hand, kneeling to level with him as she shook her head. She had round cheeks and large doe eyes, and the sweetest smile. “I’m Shay, I sort of help around here with some things, sometimes, so if you need anything please let me know.”  
“Oh, okay. I’m Keith,” he said, gladly taking her hand and giving it a shake. “Thanks.”  
Shay nodded firmly and stood up, still smiling before she left. Hadn’t he heard her name before?  
When Allura set foot in the room, everyone went quiet. Keith watched her intently as she began describing instructions, doing his best to prepare the class mentally, and didn’t notice when the door flung open one last time and someone came scurrying to their place in the barre.  
“Lance! This is the second time this week! Inexcusable.”  
“Sorry!”  
Keith’s head flung upwards as his mouth gaped. Him? Him of all people? ‘I swear, Shiro, I’m going to-’  
“Keith, are you ready? Start with something simple and make your way from there.”  
He swallowed the lump on his throat and nodded, and soon felt the cold wood against his neck - soothing. As he calmed down, the music came easier. He watched as the dancers followed his rhythm and tried to only skim over them, but his eyes always came to a rest on his figure, moving like a gypsy - beautifully. He took a deep breath and concentrated on the vibrations, on how rich the tunes were and on the soft murmur of voices outside, from the halls.  
The stretches and soft movements went by smoothly, with no mistake from Keith’s part either. He began feeling at ease in this room, where only his music guided the footsteps of others. He caught himself smiling at the group of dancers and smiled wider, breathing deeply only to still himself and not become too carried away.  
Allura nodded for him to stop.  
Keith was sure that if anyone smiled at him the way Allura was smiling at them all, his stomach would lurch. Her expression made it clear she was going to enjoy whatever came next, and Keith didn’t know whether that was a good thing or the contrary.  
“Ladies, gentlemen, I need four little swans by my side. Now.”  
Oh, even Keith was going to enjoy this.  
Lance caught a glimpse of his grin even when he was facing downwards and volunteered first, a smile of his own painted across his lips. When Keith saw him move forward, he rose his gaze to Lance’s face and caught him staring. His eyes hardened, but he himself couldn’t help but look curiously at how the ballerino’s cheeks were a bit rosier, even when he had such tanned skin. He felt his own cheeks gain color as Lance winked at him from the line of four that had formed, and averted his eyes.  
“Cygnets, I hope you know by now, Keith isn’t an ordinary musician. I hope you can keep up.”  
Again, Allura nodded towards him, this time with a smile.  
Keith licked his lips.  
“Think of it as a game: whoever misses is disqualified. Whoever wins gets this Friday all for themselves.”  
Four Little Swans had always been exciting to dance, but as soon as Keith started playing, Lance felt his heart rate increase in anticipation. The way he modified the rhythm seemed to fit Lance’s movements and style perfectly, and it was not long before three, then four, then five people were discarded. Every time someone missed a step, the remaining three and a new one would begin again, and Lance couldn’t have asked for more. Even when sweat was already rolling off his forehead and his breath became shallow, he thought he might gladly dance this for the rest of his life. He turned his head up and watched Keith watch him dance, smiling, overjoyed, with an expression that mimicked his own.  
Reyna missed her footing and then there only were three, the surviving little swans. Jules seemed like she could use some water, but Keith had already raised his bow once more, his forehead gleaming with sweat as well.  
‘Show me what you’ve got,’ mouthed Lance, smiling through small gasps, ‘Pretty Boy.’  
Keith showed his teeth in a half-grin, half-snarl, and began playing.  
The original Four Little Swans was much slower, and it was what threw Lance off his high horse. He lost his balance and soon tripped over himself, having become too used to Keith’s version, and Jules followed right before Keith finished the song.  
Allura clapped, approaching Keith and the girl who stood last. “Very good job,” she said, grinning at him like the excitement had gotten to her, and then she turned to the girl. “I’d prefer if you came and practiced your movements this Friday, you looked very stiff, very artificial and not elegant at all, Valerie. A promise is a promise, though, so you can freely choose your activities this weekend.”  
A muffled complaint was all she uttered, knowing she was expected to come either way.  
“Okay, cygnets, class dismissed. Lance, could you bring poor Jules some water?”  
“Si señorita.” He avoided Keith’s gaze as he exited the room, be it intentionally or not. Keith didn’t know why he was so disappointed; perhaps he had wanted to rub his victory in a bit before parting ways.  
“That was very mean,” said Jules from below, laughing even though she was clearly out of breath. “Lance won’t be able to sleep tonight.”  
‘An eye for an eye.’  
“You’re a very good player, I was expecting something different.” Keith glared at her and stored his violin quickly. “Oh, I didn’t mean-”  
“Yeah. Just because I’m not in some overpriced pretty school, it doesn’t mean I can’t play,” he spat, regaining his composure only a few moments after. “I’m sorry, Allura. Goodbye.”  
“Thank you for coming.”  
He slammed the door  
And slammed into Lance.  
And was sort of splashed all over the face with the water he carried.  
“Fuck!” (He may have also accidentally punched Lance as he slung his violin case over the shoulder.)  
“Language, Lance!”  
Keith was fuming. He violently pushed Lance away and stomped his way towards the entrance, dripping and brooding like a stray dog. Lance rose an eyebrow at Allura and Jules, (rubbing his wounded jaw) and Jules hid her gaze from him. He gave her the paper cup with whatever water remained and sprinted after Keith.  
“Mullet, wait!”  
Rain wouldn’t stop either of them, but Keith ran, both to get away from Lance and the Castle and also to avoid his violin getting wet. He felt a hand on his shoulder pull him back and he shook him away, his face red as a cherry and anger flaring in his blueberry eyes. “Would you stop?” he heaved, “what do you want, Lance? What?” His voice increased in volume, but it was still dulled over by the sound of pattering rain and tires making puddles splash onto concrete.  
Lance shook his head and took Keith’s hand, pulling him and his violin below shelter. “What’s wrong?”  
“Who are you to ask me that?” Keith hissed, setting the instrument down and running his free hand through his drenched hair. “Let me go.”  
Lance noticed he was still holding on and blinked the raindrops off his lashes. “You’re a good musician.”  
“Fuck, just let me go. I know I’m good, I don’t need validation from snobby kids like you.”  
The dancer’s face visibly hardened, and he released Keith’s hand only to clench his fist. “Do you think I just waltzed into the Castle because my daddy was good friends with the headmaster? Do you think you’re the only one who had to work for what you have?” he spat, turning away from him and walking closer to the edge of the sidewalk; his shoulders were tense and his entire body felt like a coil waiting to spring. “You think everyone gets it so much easier than you do, don’t you?” he laughed, the noise lost between a pang of thunder. “Madre de Dios, Keith. Que carajo.” He rubbed his forehead and faced Keith once again.  
He was staring at his shoes, his brow furrowed and eyes shadowed from Lance. His fists clenched and relaxed continuously until he wiped the rainwater off his face with the back of his hand. “I’m going home,” he said in a low voice, but didn’t move.  
“… I’ll come with you, we’re headed the same way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> W h e e z e s
> 
> Translations:  
> S: Madre de Dios, Keith. Que Carajo.  
> E: Mother of God, Keith. What the fuck.
> 
> (To those 6 first kudos and bookmark: bless you. I hope you're enjoying it.)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tuz_qHf-Ols Here's the link to how Keith's Four Little Swans sounds, and how the ballet kids had to dance it.


End file.
